


Second Chances

by abovetheskies



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Multi, Other, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, honestly these two deserved better, so this will contain some feels but mostly happiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-22 02:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheskies/pseuds/abovetheskies
Summary: It's like falling. That strange sensation when your consciousness is just about done lulling you to sleep but your body protests against the peaceful dreaming with a hard, involuntary spasm.This time, however, he crashes into the ground feeling bruised and battered, betrayed and helpless- but still, alive... What happens when Credence Barebone returns to New York, only to meet a certain very real Percival Graves.





	1. I'm Falling

It's like falling. That strange sensation when your consciousness is just about done lulling you to sleep but your body protests against the peaceful dreaming with a hard, involuntary spasm.

This time, however, he crashes into the ground feeling bruised and battered, betrayed and helpless- but still, alive and clothed in some tattered uniform he had gotten somewhere. He won't be for long, however, without a proper place to stay- any place to stay, in fact.

Perhaps the draining sensation in his body isn't from those wizards' spells but simply from dehydration.

For days, Credence is left walking the streets, taking to the darker alleys now and avoiding the busiest roads, feeling utterly drained. Weakened by the Aurors' hexes and now by starvation, the Obscurial does nothing but stir distant emotions inside him that the young boy no longer thinks he has the strength to fight. He is beaten, cast aside, and betrayed, and that last part hurts most of all. The hope he had, that he could finally learn about magic and learn to control his own powers instead of suppressing them, destroyed by a man named Percival Graves.

He dares not return to the house where he had lived as a Second Salemer, nor even any of the other orphanages. Something about them scares him, and he doesn't want to be recruited for something... else again.

But then again, everything until now had been a lie.

Sneaking around, Credence manages to catch wind of news in the magical world. That kind, short-haired witch- Tina Goldstein- who confronted his adoptive mother before is now working some important job in wizarding government. The young wizard with the bright blue coat- Newt, is it? has traveled back to wherever he is from. He never got to meet him much, but Credence misses him already. And that smartly-dressed man who always seemed to appear when he was hurting most? It turns out that Graves had been impersonated this entire time by some dark wizard. _Grindelwald._

He hears whispers on the streets. He doesn't really know if they are true- after all, how can you just... change into someone else? So, as he scavenges what food and information he can, hiding in whatever abandoned shelters he can find, Credence doesn't believe he can ever have friends again.

Until he dares to venture past a somewhat respectable club into one of the less occupied wider streets. Then he catches a glimpse of someone he thinks he used to know.

He sees _him_.

Curiously- perhaps against his better judgement- Credence decides to follow the man, the first tangible connection to the wizarding world he has caught a glimpse of in awhile. Impersonator or not, maybe he'll get the truth. He deserves at least that.

 

A wistful glance at the setting sun tells Percival that it is Friday. After all, it's the only day of the week besides weekends that he might get the chance to go home early instead of spending the evening in his office, vetting papers and supervising Auror reports. Though it could be another day- ever since the _incident_ happened, Seraphina has been by his office many times encouraging him to get some rest, get out of the office more.

So that is indeed what he does, as soon as (though he did try to leave the ward a few days before then) the healers have determined he can walk stably on both legs and has recovered enough to move back into his old apartment. On rare evenings where the Director of Magical Security does not have a pile of important work to accomplish, he uses the opportunity to catch up with coworkers he has known for longer and has even on occasion, attended some fancy dinner event (Seraphina insisted, and she could be very persuasive).

Mostly, however, he continues to work.

He works harder, not wanting to lose that sense of security he has always had in his career-heavy life. His affluence makes the rearranging of his apartment an easily accomplished task, but other than that, Percival insists on maintaining his purposeful routine. A freer outlook on life does that to a person, and he refuses to allow Grindelwald to take that from him.

Adamantly refuses.

But sometimes the outlook isn't so great. Sometimes the pain of Grindelwald’s torture returns in his nightmares, he struggles to breathe, and it takes him a moment to remember that he's not imprisoned in a dark room somewhere, unable to prevent the dark wizard from hurting everyone he has ever cared about.

Those nights Percival spends alone trying to drown out the sounds of his own screams- God forbid he ever show that kind of weakness to _anyone_ ever again- with a bottle of Firewhisky, trying to ride things out on his own.

Tonight, though, Percival expects to finish catching up on case files in his abode, ready for the next morning of debriefing and supervising and important conferences. He makes his way down the main elevator of the lobby, grateful that the day has gone very smoothly, and decides to take a stroll by the park on his way home instead of Apparating (the feeling is quite relaxing, he admits to himself).  

And then it happens again. He feels a sudden chill down his spine that makes his walls go up all over again, and without even thinking Graves' wand is at the ready like it's been for the last ten years of his life.

"If you're going to hex me, maybe you should have the decency to do it to a man's face." Percival stops in his tracks, tone icy and intimidating as the multitude of defensive charms he has committed to memory come to mind. He expects some criminal wizard to have it out for him- it wouldn't be the first time- or some other Section 5A he's going to have to take in.

What he doesn't expect is to hear the trembling, cowering voice of a boy he has only ever seen out of his own case file.


	2. Spending the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival thinks he's seen a ghost. Credence can almost say the same. Tonight, he can at least start to repay for the atrocities Grindelwald has performed using his face by saving an innocent young man.
> 
> “Winter nights get pretty cold in New York,” he says as he removes his long navy coat, holding it out to Credence as it it were some kind of peace offering. “Those clothes don’t look very warm.” Still trembling from nerves and from the chilly breeze, Credence finds himself trying to process the older man’s actions before slowly reaching for the thick, warm fabric and cautiously draping it around his shoulders.

"You're Credence," Percival states quietly, hardly believing the sight before him. There is only one proper photo of Credence Barebone in his file. The rest are newspaper clippings of the Second Salemers' meetings on the street and snapshots of the recent destruction in New York at the hands of his Obscurial, a large red stamp reading ' _DECEASED_ ' across the center of the folder that has been stashed away inside the well-organized cabinets in Percival's office.

Yet here he is, very much alive despite what the testimonies said. Alone and dirty, in desperate need of a place to stay the night.

The sight makes Percival sick to his own stomach with guilt.

Credence nods nervously, suddenly unsure of how to speak with words. He realizes that this man is really still a stranger, though his face is familiar- kinder, in fact- and strangers aren't something he has yet learned to trust. But the face of Percival Graves the first familiar one he has seen in days, and he has to do _something_.

Except the words don't come out of his mouth.

The two stand there in tense silence, Percival wishing he could take away everything Grindelwald said to him in his voice away from the poor innocent boy, Credence trying to forget everything that happened altogether.

Dutiful to the last, it is Graves who breaks the silence.

“Winter nights get pretty cold in New York,” he says as he removes his long navy coat, holding it out to Credence as it it were some kind of peace offering. “Those clothes don’t look very warm.”

Still trembling from nerves and from the chilly breeze, Credence finds himself trying to process the older man’s actions before slowly reaching for the thick, warm fabric and cautiously draping it around his shoulders. Warmth starts to flood his chest and torso and face, something he is keenly aware of as the sight makes Percival look slightly more relieved. “T-thank you…” 

“You can call me Percival.”

He looks up this time, questioning and shock still written on his features- until the loud growl of his stomach betrays him and a light red tinge appears on Credence’s cheeks at the _completely un_ _acceptable for table manners_ sound.

Mr. Graves- _Percival_ \- remains unfazed as he looks back, though the sympathetic smile belies the serious expression as he offers to let Credence stay the night. It’s an incredibly forward request, but surely it might prove to be more comfortable than sleeping on the streets (if the young man is going to be comfortable with his presence at all) and he promises not to pressure Credence into any sort of formal conversation until he has been fed and given proper clothing for starters. 

Tonight, he can at least start to repay for the atrocities Grindelwald has performed using his face by saving an innocent young man.

 

"It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," Percival says as Credence slowly steps into the hallway, looking around nervously as he does so. The poor boy is afraid, he can sense it, and suddenly Percival is at a bit of a loss because he knows it's partly himself that is the cause of this anxiety, so how is that going to help the next nine hours? But he tries nevertheless, watching as Credence clutches his coat around his thin frame- perhaps if they could avoid this silence...

No, there are things to deal with before either of them can breach this topic, Graves reminds himself as he makes his way briefly to his own wardrobe, retrieving a clean shirt and pants before performing a slight Shrinking Charm on the garments with a subtle wave of his hand and returning to the living room, offering them to the young man with what he hopes is an encouraging smile. "I hope these are to your liking, at least just for tonight. The restroom is down the hall, second door on the right if you want to wash up."  
  
There are about a thousand things he wants to say but he forces himself to save them for later. He worries he'll scare Credence away, or worse- the conflicted look that Credence keeps giving him is not quite any help. Fortunately, the moment is disrupted as the boy nods, accepting the clothing with hesitant thanks as he rushes off to get himself clean in solitude.

Percival takes the time to gather his own thoughts together and procure dinner. Perhaps the wistful gaze that has been trained upon his figure the whole time is a good sign.

 

The sound of running water is surprisingly calm. Examining the various bath products with piqued curiosity, Credence tests the water's warmth before climbing in. Not wanting to waste too much time, he opts for a shower, noting the subtle pine scent that emanates from one of the more frequently used bottles. It's not a fragrance he is familiar with, having been brought up in the Second Salem Church, but it is different and calming and _new_. The other ones are similar as well- pine, sandalwood, something minty and fresh.

Allowing the water to cleanse away the dirt and alleviate soreness in his feet, he scrubs himself vigorously. Somehow he begins to believe that this could be a new day for him. A new start. The other Graves had never been so accomodating, now that he thought about it. This man is well-kept and tidy, no doubt, but he seems reasonable.

Caring, even.

Still, he isn't sure of what he can trust and what could be a lie. "I'm not falling for that again," Credence whispers to himself as he begins to towel himself dry with the borrowed fabric. He repeats it as if it were a mantra, though the warmth of the plush white towels and freshly ironed clothing are already lulling him into a greater sense of comfort. _This isn't new and I am not going to fall for it._

But the fact that the shirt and pants fit perfectly upon his own body is an intriguing surprise. The sight he is met with in the kitchen afterwards makes his jaw drop to the floor.


End file.
